I am gullible and I know it. The problem is my sister knows it too. She’s always known it. All my life my sister has been able to get me to do things that are virtually unheard of. They weren’t funny at the time, but they’re funny now.

I’m still gullible. It’s her fault really that I’m gullible, or am I just gullible enough to believe that?

Laura Jean is the oldest and has all the identifiable qualities of the first-born, including leadership, stubbornness, responsibility and determination. To me that just means she’s bossy. Being born last, I try to keep everyone happy, hopefully laughing.

My sister and I have laughed so much in our lives – you know – the real belly laughs that come from deep down inside as tears stream down your face. Sometimes we even snort. We’ve laughed more than we’ve cried and that’s a good thing. That’s a very good thing. Now that we’re beyond young, we have more laugh lines than wrinkles.

Some of the funniest moments I remember are during the time when Mom was raising us as a single parent. Thinking back, perhaps we were trying to make our own fun when we didn’t have any money to spend; no electronic games to play; no videos to watch – just good old fashioned, plain fun. Often times the fun was at my expense – instigated by my ever-loving sister.

I seemed to be most gullible at bedtime. I remember it like yesterday. Laura Jean would get the bathroom first; the facecloth, the towel, the toothpaste and the bathwater. If that wasn’t enough, she even got to stay up an extra fifteen minutes later than me. There seemed to be no justice in the world.
I really believed I was getting clean in that one inch of bath water, used three times over. Have I mentioned I’m gullible?

Once in bed we would giggle and whisper and poke at each other and have all the fun little girls do at bedtime. The only other option was sleep and we certainly didn’t want to do that. The nightly ritual was the same, exactly the same, every night. This wasn’t a routine that changed or stopped when I caught on; it went on every night, for years. Can you say gullible?

Laura Jean would rub my feet for about ten seconds. Then she would abruptly say, “Okay, my turn Nancy.” This would last for at least ten minutes. Every night. Laura Jean would lie there, enjoying the relaxation that came from having her feet rubbed after an exhausting day of tormenting me. Finally, it would be over. The feet rubbing part that is. The most ridiculous part of the ritual was still to come. To this day, I cannot believe I fell for the same thing every night. Every night.

Laura Jean would say, “Hey Nancy! Smell my feet.”

“No way,” I replied. This dialogue repeated several times with pokes and tickles in between. Then came the clincher.

“Nancy. Smell my feet. They smell like candy!”
Ohhhh, candy. Remember, we lived in a single parent home without much money so candy was a huge treat. Just the thought of getting a smell of it was enough to send me. Well, you guessed it. Every night I would smell her feet and I can tell you honesty, they didn’t smell anything like candy. Night after night after night they didn’t smell like candy. Perhaps I thought they would somehow miraculously smell differently. But alas, this ritual ended up with me screwing up my face and rubbing my nose while my sister laughed hysterically. This would be when mom would yell up the first warning for us to be quiet. We snickered and snorted and tried to settle down into a quieter activity. The back scratch.
Laura Jean would say, “You scratch my back and then I’ll scratch yours.” Every night. I knew deep down that I wouldn’t get my back scratched, but I was just gullible enough to believe it might happen. It could happen. But it never did. My sister loved having her back scratched. She would position her body in such a way that I could execute the scratch to her delight. Her deep sleep immediately followed. I would lie there thinking to myself, “tomorrow night I’m not going to smell her feet and she can scratch my back first.” This was good in theory but hardly practical. I was the little sister.

Today, I’m still gullible. I like to call it a gift, because it makes us laugh. Our faith and our humour have carried us through many trials and tribulations, joys and sorrows in our lives. We fight, we cry, but we laugh more. We always laugh more.

A few years ago, my sister gave me a gift. Its a little plaque. I may be gullible, but I believe every word of it.

“As we grew throughout the years, amid the laughter and the tears.

The special feelings we shared back then. Exist today, my sister, my friend.”